


We Walk

by towardbrevity



Category: Cougar Town
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-24
Updated: 2013-07-24
Packaged: 2017-12-21 06:30:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/896957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/towardbrevity/pseuds/towardbrevity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Interlude scene from 1.24 'Finding Out'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Walk

It happens in the span of about ten seconds. Ellie hooks her finger into the label on the back of Jules' dress and before it can rip, Jules is already staggering backwards into Grayson’s bedroom and the lights are off and her knees hit the frame and she falls onto the mattress and Ellie's mouth is on hers and she's climbing over her and _oh god_ it's been a long time since they've done this. Too long.

“Here?” Jules is half-heartedly protesting but it's hard to argue with Ellie and it's even harder with Ellie's tongue brushing _right exactly mmmh_ —she’s never even had to tell her how much she likes that.

She finds the belt loops of Ellie's jeans and tugs her hips down hard. Ellie never answers her question, and there's a long moment where she's staring around Grayson’s bedroom, her eyebrows wrenched together. She takes a beat and descends on Jules, lips and teeth crashing together again and again and when Jules moves to thread her fingers into her hair, Ellie sighs in protest and pins her arms to the bed. She’s relentless; their lips are getting raw. Jules tries to find her eyes in the darkness, but when they’re not closed they're just gone, they're somewhere else. Jules sinks into the mattress as Ellie leaves a wet trail down her neck and she doesn't fight back the groan. ~~~~

The dress only takes a tug here and there to come apart at the hip. She expected someone to take advantage of it today, but she didn't think it would be Ellie. Her hands are cold; they’re cold and they’re all over her, sliding up her abdomen and across the lace cups of her bra and they move around to her spine and press along the muscles and Jules can feel the tension in her back easing out and that’s it, goodnight everybody, she’s not going anywhere.

_“Remind me again why you brought me to your new boyfriend's house?”_

_Jules picks up a speaker on the desk and stares at it like it’s a puzzle box. “You know I don't know how to work any of this equipment.”_

_“I'm supervising your prank?”_

_“And Grayson keeps knit wool caps in a box in his closet and I know you wanna try on_ all _of them.”_

_“You know what I'd rather be doing?”_

They both could get laid on any night they could ever want, but this...

She wonders if Ellie dreams about it the way that she does. She wonders if Ellie tears her clothes off with her eyes, or if she's come to a girls’ night with a step so light from anticipation she might as well be floating. She wonders if Ellie likes keeping secrets; she wonders if Andy knows. If Grayson knows. If it even matters.

Hmm. Some of this stuff is killing the mood. She boxes it all up, puts it away.

Ellie won’t take her jeans off, but Jules manages to divest her of her button up and pulls the white camisole around for a while until Ellie gives it up. It’s discarded and she’s punished promptly, hands pinned to the bed again. Ellie isn’t smiling; she still looks like she’s on a mission and Jules wonders what she’s done to deserve this, or if Ellie will ever tell her. She tries to lean up to kiss her again but Ellie turns her head to the side and comes down hard on her collarbone, sucking at the skin and taking a mouthful between her teeth. It makes Jules yell out her name, but not in ecstasy. Ellie leans back up and looks at her handiwork, a rising pink-red mark visible in the dim light from the hallway.

“Oh, sorry,” Ellie says, not very sorry at all. She narrows her eyes, and there might be a smile ghosting around them somewhere. Jules wants it. Her grip loosens, and Jules is able to free one of her hands.

She adopts her most flirtatious voice and drags a finger along Ellie’s jawline. That smile is so close; she could reach out and touch it. “Soooo, what should I tell Grayson when he asks what that is?”

The name makes Ellie flinch, and the game is over. “Tell him you were mauled by a wild animal or something.” She sits up suddenly, and climbs off of her, grabbing her shirt and walking straight out of the room.

Jules sighs at the ceiling.

She can hear clattering in the kitchen. She sits up, ties her dress back together, and follows her. Ellie is dressed again and digging through Grayson’s cabinets, no doubt looking for a long-stemmed glass and something unopened she can dive into. Jules waits in the doorway with her arms folded, but Ellie doesn’t acknowledge her, just pours herself a glass of wine and leaves the bottle airing on the table while she stares out the window.

The back of her hair is tousled, her jeans are pulled partway down her hips, and Jules is trying to look past how unbelievably sexy that is and concentrate on saying something helpful.

She doesn’t say anything at all for a long time, just stares. Ellie finishes her wine.

“I should go,” she says, putting the empty glass in the sink. As she heads for Grayson’s front door, Jules does the only thing she can think of and puts herself between Ellie and her escape. Ellie sidesteps and Jules moves with her. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know what to say, so I’m keeping you here until I do.”

“That’s not the smartest idea you’ve ever had.”

“It’s all I’ve got right now.” Another sidestep. Jules grabs her by the shoulders. “Will you stop?”

“No!” Ellie looks as if she’s about to barrel past.

Jules leans forward and captures her lips with her own, eyes closed, trying. Ellie freezes for a moment as if to respond, but breaks away.

“Don’t.”

Jules lets go and steps back, hands into the air. “You’re being a real hypocrite, you know that?”

“Oh, _please_ —”

“You’ve had no problem with the _carousel_ of guys I’ve brought home since the divorce, but now suddenly I can’t even say my boyfriend’s name around you without you shutting down.”

“You didn’t give a damn about all those other guys, Jules. You haven’t had a real relationship in ages and now—”

“After all the opportunities you’ve had to say something, the nights we’ve stayed up talking about possibilities and my feelings and my conflict of interest and you wait until I’ve _done_ something about it before you blow up in my face?”

The gestures start to fly.

“I’m not going to interfere with your decisions!”

“You’re my best friend, Ellie! It’s a little fucking _late_ for that!” Jules runs her fingers through her hair.

“For god’s sake, I just want you to be happy.”

Jules talks through clenched teeth. “No, you just want _you_ to be happy. You don’t mind my _distractions_ , because they always end with me calling you over in the middle of the night—”

“That is such bullshit—”

“Not to mention the fact that I don’t even bring up how this might affect Andy—”

She brandishes a finger at Jules. “Don’t you _dare_ bring him into this. He and I have an agreement—”

“Yeah?” Her temper flares. “Does _he_ know about it?”

Ellie hits her across the face.

Her eyes are glassy and alight with malice, and her lip quivers. She takes a few shuddering breaths.

Jules’ cheek stings, and she puts a hand to it. “I’m—I’m sorry,” she says, as she runs her fingers across, “that was over the line. I’m sorry.”

Ellie stares at her, eyes brimming. Jules doesn’t reach out for her again. They stand in the middle of the kitchen, watching each other think.

“You didn’t think I’d get jealous,” Ellie says, “after having you all to myself all these years?”

Jules rubs at her nose and takes a step forward. “I didn’t,” she says in earnest, “I really didn’t.”

Ellie holds her hand out. “Hi, I’m Ellie. I’m possessive and neurotic and relentless and this is a redundant conversation.”

Jules takes her hand and pulls her in. Ellie doesn’t protest. “I know. You think I don’t get jealous of Andy?”

Ellie tilts her head and ponders. “That’s not the same.”

“Why?”

“Because he knows he has to share me”—her lips are next to Jules’ ear—“and you’re _mine_.” Ellie slides her hands down to the hem of Jules’ dress and underneath.

“That’s not fair.” She’s not sure what she’s contesting.

“Life’s not fair, buttercup.” She lifts Jules by the ass and sets her on the kitchen table. It wobbles a little when Ellie steps between her thighs, and the dress comes apart again, satin sliding over her shoulders and pooling on the hardwood. Ellie reaches behind her and picks up something. A remote. She presses it and the iPod she’d helped Jules hook up to Grayson’s stereo system starts kicking out something heady and familiar.

An old mix of hers from college. One of the ones she would bring over to Jules’ place and leave running on repeat all night while she got nostalgic… and handsy.

There’s that smile. Finally.

Their noses brush and their breath mingles and Ellie is all hands again, all touching and no kissing, keeping her lips just far enough away that getting at them is all Jules can think about. Ellie takes the button-up and the camisole back off and Jules pulls their torsos together and locks her ankles around Ellie’s waist. Ellie breathes into her mouth again. She smells like cinnamon sugar and Jules smiles because now she knows where she disappeared to for an hour this afternoon.

“Pleeeeease,” Jules  whispers.

“Please what?” Ellie knows full well _what_. Jules leans forward to kiss her and she leans back; still too close, still not close enough.

Jules screws up her face. “Kiss me or carry me back in there, I don’t think my back can handle both.”

“Boy, you really know how to kill a moment, don’t you?”

“I’m a pro.”

“You’re impatient.” Her voice is so close, it’s making the little hairs above her lip stand up.

“Agree to disagree.”

Ellie slides her fingers through her hair and obliges.


End file.
